


it's so surprisingly easy now

by tryslora



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Job Friday, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Introspection, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Schmoop, Talking During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack remembers the time before it was easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's so surprisingly easy now

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first foray into writing for _Check Please!_ , eek! This was written for Blow Job Friday, and while it's the fifth fic I wrote for the event, it's the third being posted. It took me a while to wrap my head around finding a voice to try for this fandom, and to figure out how I could write essentially PWP for it. Many thanks to Gracerene for a wonderful, swift beta.

Jack remembers the time before it was easy.

How there was a time in his life when Bitty on his knees, lips stretched around Jack’s cock, was nothing but a half-forgotten dream that left him aching, hard and wanting, and still no closer to understanding his own heart and mind.

He remembers reaching out and touching air instead of curling his fingers into the soft thickness of Bitty’s hair. He remembers thrusting into nothing and waking up wondering _why_ this was where his unconscious mind went.

And now… and now… he cards his fingers through Bitty’s hair, rocks his hips lightly and feels the press of a tongue right against the base of his cock, slowly stroking to the tip.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Jack murmurs. “You cooked dinner. And that new pie—that peach thing where you soaked the peaches in rum for three days. And you were _here_ for all three of those days.”

Bitty pulls back, opens his mouth and leaves Jack’s cock resting on his tongue. He replaces his mouth with his hand, idly stroking as he sits back on his heels, crouched low and staring up. “If I’ve got you in my mouth, Jack, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be talking about pie. Good Lord, all I ought to be hearing about now is _please, Eric_ and _oh God more of that yeah right there_. It’s not polite to be talking about dinner when a man’s going down on you.”

A smile twists Jack’s lip, true and honest, pulled from the depths of his heart without his permission. He cradles Bitty’s face with his hands, rubs a thumb across Bitty’s swollen lower lip. “Are there rules about manners for blow jobs?”

Bitty snorts softly, sucks Jack’s thumb into his mouth and teases it with his tongue before he lets it slip free again. “I’m from Georgia, Jack. We’ve got rules about manners for everything. Now, it’s likely someone figured that if a man was on his knees, it was for a lady—not that ladies talk about such things. But I’m sure that someone someone’s written a list of rules that ladies ought to follow at such times, in the privacy of their own bedrooms.”

As opposed to the living room, where they are right now, with the windows cracked to let in a cool summer breeze, and the curtains drawn for privacy. “There are probably rules about where to have sex, too,” Jack points out with a smile.

“Probably.” Bitty strokes a little harder, and Jack pushes into his grip, body tense from pleasure but loose because it’s _Bitty_ and they’re here and it’s so easy. “But there’s also things a man shouldn’t be thinking when his cock’s being sucked, like whether he ought to tile the bathroom floor, or maybe painting the living room a nice bright blue. Or just how good the peach pie from dinner happened to be.”

Bitty lowers his head again, manages to get the head of Jack’s cock in his mouth just as Jack tells him, “That pie was as good as an orgasm.” Bitty huffs around his cock, the laugh vibrating until Jack thrusts again and Bitty’s throat constricts in a brilliant swallow.

It’s amazingly easy to let Bitty take him in, to luxuriate in the feel of that mouth, that tongue teasing him, doing things that shouldn’t be discussed in polite company. He can smell the cinnamon that he always associates with Bitty; it permeates the house now, making this place a home and not just somewhere he lives between practices and being on the road. Jack tilts his hips and Bitty tries harder, tongue going to impossible places, lapping at Jack like he’s better than comfort food, better than pie.

And Jack loses himself in the dream come true, thrusts into Bitty’s mouth until he can’t control himself any more, until Bitty swallows every drop and leans back, licking his lips and looking satisfied.

“Come here,” Jack says, reaching for Bitty and tugging him into his lap, loving how Bitty is wiry and strong, but still smaller than Jack, still easy to move into place and hold tight. Jack gets his hand between them, cradles Bitty’s balls just for a moment because he knows Bitty likes it. 

And this is easy too, the way he knows Bitty’s body now, knows exactly how to stroke him, how to roll his hand over the head and press his thumb into the slit, drawing out the droplet and spreading it over him. Jack knows how rough Bitty can take it, and how he loves it when Jack slows down and just holds him while kissing him, letting Bitty make tiny thrusts with his hips while Jack sweeps into his mouth and tastes himself on Bitty’s tongue.

He teases him until Bitty is whining, hips moving harder, begging for release, and when he finally lets him finish, Bitty cries out Jack’s name, clings to his shoulder and presses his face against his throat. Jack holds him through the shudders, strokes his cock with one hand and his back with the other until he’s done.

It’s easy in the aftermath, too, lying there together, sticky and sated, the smell of cinnamon in the background.

“Mm.” Bitty kisses his throat, his jaw, his lips, and Jack lets himself go slow, just taste him and enjoy the moment. “I love you,” Bitty murmurs.

This is easy too, the words loose and free on his tongue as Jack whispers them back to Bitty, presses them into the skin of his shoulder, kisses them along his throat. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

It was hard for so long, impossible for Jack to see. It took them years to find this space, to make this home together where Bitty’s things are neatly put away in the kitchen, and fresh pie scents the house. Where Jack’s pictures of Bitty from Samwell and the years after line the walls, decorating every surface, mixed with a few of them together.

It’s been a decade since they first met, and Jack is thankful that Bitty is still here in his life, still part of who he is. And it’s easy to think that this is the way it’s going to keep on being. It’s surprisingly easy to believe in love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


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